


don't know how things got so tangled

by cosmonaught



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-19
Updated: 2013-07-19
Packaged: 2017-12-20 17:34:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/889960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmonaught/pseuds/cosmonaught
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There came a time when Bobby had to suck it up and write about the angels, because sometimes there are just things that need to be done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't know how things got so tangled

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Digital world](https://archiveofourown.org/works/417809) by [antrazi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/antrazi/pseuds/antrazi). 



> written for [Kamikaze Remix 2012](http://kamikazeremix.livejournal.com).  
> thanks to the incredibly wonderful [sailoreyes67](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sailoreyes67), without whom this story would be canonically inconsistent. massive, massive thanks and tons of love to her for filling in for my previous beta. i freakin' love you, you lifesaver, you.  
> also major props and hugs and kisses to [lipsticknguns](http://lipsticknguns.livejournal.com) (lj), who isn't a beta but did her best (and totally saved my ass) when i was initially informed that my story was too short.  
> original postdate: 10.4.12  
> 

After the Apocalypse started, things changed.

Hunters were no longer strictly solitary. More groups cropped up; information was shared freely—hell, it was even posted on the Internet. There’d been a Swedish ex-hunter who had painstakingly digitalized her extensive collection of books—scanned and rescanned and annotated and catalogued just to help hunters from around the world. The overwhelming response that followed may not have been on the Internet (IP tracing is a dangerous thing) but the lovely Margit had received an outpouring of thanks in the form of letters, protective charms, hex bags, and the like delivered to her home. She’d publicly posted a thank-you, and subsequently several more hunters had followed in her footsteps, sending their own troves of knowledge into the world.

Not that there hadn’t been information online before, but now there was an entire database for the whole damn world to see. Quite frankly, Bobby was pretty shocked there hadn’t been a panic of any sort, but apparently several authors had written about vampires and werewolves, making the whole ‘saving people, hunting things’ spiel a lot easier to swallow.

He’d been thinking about adding his own information for a long time ( _‘why feed the monster?’_ , he’d protested—funny how the Apocalypse changes peoples’ minds) but every time he got around to posting something online, he’d found that someone else had beaten him to the punch, and Bobby knew it’d be useless to even try to chip in. There were too many people in the world and not nearly enough information to go around.

 

{+++}

It used to be that hunters did research in person. Nowadays a few well-chosen keywords in a search engine could get you anything you wanted. It was convenient—wonderfully so—but it took away from the satisfaction of finding an answer after days of hard work (or maybe that was just Bobby going senile).

He supposed it was for the better, of course. Bobby used to know a professor at a university who was an expert on Norse mythology, and he’d been instrumental in sending an enraged tree-spirit back into a dormant state.

But the spirit did not go gently into that good night, and it took the professor with him.

At least the internet was keeping people at home so they wouldn’t get their sorry asses killed.

 

{+++}

Once upon a time, hunters had taken great pride in coming up with excuses for needing to borrow the book on constructing sacrificial altars to summon Kali with.

Bobby would never forget the look on the crucifix-wearing librarian’s face when he told her—in no uncertain terms—exactly why he needed to ‘poke his nose around in books that went against the good Lord’s holy gospel’.

 

{+++}

It’d been more than enough work when he had to deal with the Croatoan virus, but now there were Trojan horses and worms and the like to worry about. Bobby’d take homicidal humans over hackers trying to access his (fake) credit cards any day.

It was even worse because the constant viral threat came from someone he knew.

_“This is Bobby Singer’s direct hotline. You should not have this number.”_

_“Hello, sir! We would like to offer you a FREE thirty-day trial of Testoste-GO!, a new male enhancemen—”_

Bobby sighed and erased the message. They really needed to get Cas to stop signing up for websites, no matter what kind of ‘promised land’ was being advertised.

 

{+++}

Sam and Dean always asked him for help during their hunts because the two idjits often had their heads stuck so far up their asses that they couldn’t see which way was up and which was down.

Of course, Bobby helped them. He used to pore through dusty old tomes and translate ancient languages and rifle through index after index so they could live to argue another day.

The database made it easier, yes, but the surplus of information on monsters meant that sometimes Bobby had to choose between two very possible monsters before realizing that they were two different names for the same creature.

At this point he’d make a neutral comment suggesting that the articles be merged and brace himself for the inevitable backlash and weeklong debates that would occur. He’d have to brave the disgruntled authors who insisted that the monsters were completely different and the book-reading supremacists who complained that ‘conjecture is not canon’ and avoid the computer in general for a few days while the _really_ weird people tried to triangulate his position so they could invite him to their ‘conventions’ or whatnot. Crazies, the lot of them.

Sometimes he wished for simpler times when the only thing he had to worry about was making sure he came back home to Karen.

 

{+++}

There came a time where Bobby had to suck it up and write about the angels, because sometimes there are things that need to be done.

 _Angels_ , he typed, _Dickheads in human bodies with no real emotion and the illusion of self-importance. Utter assholes._

After a moment’s pause, Bobby frowned and shook his head at his screen. Unfortunately, he’d have to do better than that.

 

{+++}

“Jesus fuck.”

Grabbing a beer, Dean closed the refrigerator door. “What, Sammy?”

“Bobby posted about you meeting Cas. _Online_.”

Dean rushed over to the laptop and read about his first interaction with Castiel (in alarming detail). He nearly spit his drink out.

“Jesus _fuck_.”


End file.
